


Send Out The Wolves

by TheTartWitch



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Alternate Universe - Mob, Gen, Red and Allen and Crown Clown share a body, Supernatural Elements, blending of mob and Order
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-11
Updated: 2016-04-11
Packaged: 2018-06-01 14:05:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6522874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTartWitch/pseuds/TheTartWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Allen, Red, and Coronati Fussor have always shared a body. None of them came first, and none of them are newer than the others. They just are. They are known as the Three Men, leader of London's most prominent gang, Sword and Dagger, and take their time defeating the akuma flocking to the city and winning over the hearts of the people. Then comes the Exorcists Three...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Send Out The Wolves

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so, this is super short and it's pretty old, but I finished it up and I'm posting it with possible intentions of doing another chapter soon so let me know what you think. And yeah, I'm not sure what inspired this either, really.

'Red' was a shield against the world, a way of convincing others he wasn't as weak as he knew he was. After years of maintaining that shield, all it took was a few months of learning how to walk both paths to make Red a mask he could switch out at will. 

'Allen' was a cloak, a shock of startling white hair and reflective silver eyes that smiled at everyone. He was vastly different from Red, who was devious and cruel and delighted in it.  

There was a third side, a silent side, that Red didn't speak of and Allen kept a secret: the Crowned Clown.  _Coronati_ _Fussor_ , as Allen called him ( _Red called him 'cold f_ _ucker' and delighted in that, too_ ). 

The crime ring Red controlled worshipped all three of the personas: the vicious one, the gentlemanly one, and the cloaked one. They made sure to keep the existence of the three men stuck in one body a secret, a mystery that the police couldn't crack, because it was the uncertainty of the people that kept them alive.  

They couldn't hide his existence forever, however; not with Red's habit of scaring ladies in the streets with his knife-throwing tricks or Allen's slow, chilling smile that he bestowed only upon the scum that tried to attack him on his late-night walks. Word traveled to the other cities of ghosts and ghouls ( _of which there were surprisingly few, thanks to Coronati Fossor's hobby: the house-keeping of all London_ ) and after a few years of  the three's activities, word spread to a place known as the Black Order.  

Red felt it the moment the three stepped into his city. His fist planted itself in the desk he sat at, startling his attendants. "Fuck," he snarled, before grinding out to them, "Gonna let the other guy out."  

As Red retreated back into their minds, Allen stepped forward. His eyes blinked open to see previously-red hair bleach itself to stark white. Brown eyes spun into opaque grey disks. As the problem presented itself to him, he leaned back in the hard wooden chair and steepled his gloved fingers.  

"I see," he murmured, eyebrows tilting in thought. "This will require careful handling. I can see why Red gave up control so easily; his hands are anything but deft." Turning to the children surrounding him ( _they were faster than any adult, and so quick to obey a difficult order_ ), he smiled gently and said, "Inform the border guard a group of three individuals wearing black uniforms bearing rose crosses are to be given no trouble. I will be personally dealing with them." 

A little girl with long pigtails nodded and turned to dash through the slender opening of his tiny control room. She'd be off to let the border guard know before they caused trouble with these people; they needed to be lulled into the perfect moment for Allen to strike. With any luck, Coronati Fossor wouldn't need to get involved. Besides, once the guard got the message he knew they'd stay away; they'd seen how any troublesome people didn't last long in the Three Men's city. Usually those people were revealed to be a monstrous man-eating machine used to destroy cities, anyway.

Allen's plots were cunning and calculating and almost always succeeded, and so the Three Men were regarded with awe and fascination and something approaching worship, but never fear; men and women and others who feared a man would never fight to the death to protect that man, and so a beloved man was much more powerful in his chosen city.  

Exorcists were always troublesome; they never understood Allen's reasons or Red's violence or Coronati Fussor's silent judgment, or it unsettled them the way the shift between the three was so fluid, or the fact that they were head of a technically-criminal organization drove them away. It always ended in a fight, and despite what Red said, the Three Men didn't enjoy fighting; in the end, it had no true benefit.  

Allen smirked as he thought the problem over; he knew the Heart of the Men (Coronati Fussor) would accept his plan because he was known as the tactical genius behind the Three Men, but what about the Hand? Red didn't often agree with a plan that put him in the backseat of the Three, but then, he never liked interacting with exorcists.  

Allen hopped out of his desk chair with grace and hoped for the best. It wouldn’t be the first time he'd had to talk Red down from a fight, and if their future continued in this vein it wouldn't be the last.


End file.
